THERE WE'7{E "PRINTED OF THIS EDITION FIFTY-FI'VE COPIES ON 
WHATMAN "PAPER, COLORED BY HAND. OF WHICH THIS IS 

SLUMBER 3' ^ 



Copyright lgo2, by Lena iMiller 



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Jflower poems 

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 




WITH DESIGNS BY 
LONA MILLER 



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With little here to do or see 

Of things that in the great world be, 

Sweet Daisy I oft I tallt to thee 

For thou art worthy, 
Thou unassuming common^place 
Of Nature, with that homely face. 
And yet with something of a grace 

Which love makes for thee I 

Oft on the dappled turf at ease 

I sit and play with similes, 

Loose types of things through all degrees, 

Thoughts of thy raising! 
And many a fond and idle name 
I give to thee, for praise or blame 
As is the humor of the game. 

While I am gazing. 

A nun demure, of lowly porti 

Or sprightly maiden, of Love's court. 

In thy simplicity the sport 

Of all temptations; 
A queen in crown of rubies dreslj 
A starveling in a scanty vest) 
Are all, as seems to suit thee best. 

Thy appellati 





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LITTLE Cyclops, with one eye 
Staring to threaten and defy, 
That thought conies next'^and instantly 

The freak is overj 
The shape will vanish, and behold I 
A silver shield with boss of gold 
That spreads itself, some fairy bold 

In fight to cover, 



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SEE thee glittering from afar." 
And then thou art a pretty star. 
Not quite so fair as many are 
In heaven above thee I 
Yet like a star, with glittering crest, 
Self'poised in air thou seem'st to restc 
May peace come never to his nest 
Who shall reprove thee I 




WEET Flower! for by that name at last 
When all my reveries are past 
1 call thee, and to that cleave fast. 

Sweet silent Creature I 
That breath'st with me in sun and air, 
Do thou, as thou art wont, repair 
My heart with gladness, and a share 
Of thy meek naturel 



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Bright Flower ! whose home is everywhere 

Bold in maternal Nature's care, 

And all the long year through the heijr 

Of joy or sorrows 
Methinks that there abides in thee 
Some concord with humanii 
Given to no other flower I 

The forest through 






Is it that Man is soon deprest? 

A thoughtless Thing I who once unblest, 

Does little on his memory rest, 

Or on his reason, 
And Thou would'st teach him how to find 
A shelter under every wind, 
A hope for times that are unkind 

And every season? 

Thou wander'st the wide world about 

Uncheck'd by pride or scrupulous doubt, 

With friends to greet thee, or without, 

Yet pleased and willing; 
Meek, yielding to the occasion's call. 
And all things suffering from all 
Thy function apostolical 

In peace fulfilling. 










That love which changed^/for wan disease, 

For sorrow that had bent 

O'er hopeless dust, for withered age" 

Their moral element, 

And turned the thistles of a curse 

To types beneficent. 



Sin.'blighted though we are, we too 
The reasoning Sons of Men, 
From one oblivious winter called 
Shall rise, and breathe again; 
And in eternal summer lose 
Our threescore years and ten. 



To humbleness of heart descends 

This prescience from on high, 

The faith that elevates the just, 

Before and when they diej 

And makes each soul a separate heaveni 

A court for Deity. 



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Lone Flower, hemmed in with snows and 

white as they 
But hardier far, once more I see thee bend 
Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend, 
Like an unbidden guest. Though day by dayt 
Storms, sallying from the mountain.<tops, 

waylay 
The rising sun, and on the plains descend) 
Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend 
Vhose zeal out runs his promise I Blue^-eyed 

May 
Shall soon behold this border thickly set 
With bright jonquils, their cdcurs lavishing 
On the soft west'wind and his frolic peers; 
Nor will I then thy modest grace forget. 
Chaste Snowdrop, venturous harbinger of 

Spring, 
And pensive monitor of fleeting years! 






ANSIES, lilies, kingcups, daisies, 
Let them live upon their praisesf 
Long as there's a sun that sets, 
Primroses will have their gloryt 
Long as there are Violets, 
They will have a place in storys 
There's a flower that shall be mine, 
'Tis the little Celandine, 



Eyes of some men travel far 
For the finding of a star) 
Up and down the heavens they ( 
Men that keep a mighty rout I 
I'm as !?reat as they, 1 trow, 
Since the day I found thee out, 
Little Flower l-zl'll make a stir, 
Like a sage astronomer. 



Modest, yet withal an Elf 
Bold and lavish of thyselfi 
Since we needs must first have met 
I have seen thee, high and low. 
Thirty years or more, and yet 
'Twas a face I did not knowj 
Thou hast now, go where I may. 
Fifty greetings in a day. 





lilli 



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Ere a leaf is on a bush, 
In the time before the thf ush 
Has a thought about her nest, 
Thou wilt come with half a call, 
Spreading out thy glossy breast 
Like a careless Prodigalf 
Telling tales about the sun. 
When we've little warmth, or none 



Poets, vain men in their mood I 
Travel with the multitude) 
Never heed them; I aver 
That they all are wanton wooersj 
But the thrifty Cottager, 
Who stirs little out of doors, 
Joys to spy thee near her home. 
Spring is coming, Thou art come 



Comfort have thou of thy merit. 
Kindly, unassuming Spirit 
Careless of thy neighborhood. 
Thou dost show'thy pleasant face 
On the moor, and in the wood,' 
In the lanei^'there's not a place, 
Howsoever mean it be 
But 'tis good enough for thee. 






PRINTED BY JOSEPH W, MURRAY ON THE PRESS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF 
KANSAS. FINE ARTS DEPARTMENT, NINETEEN HUNDRED AND ONE 



ICOPY Oil. iUL-ri.-. 
FtB. 24 1902 



IB. 27 1902 



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